


wild

by whereshiphappens (xiiis16)



Series: golden boy [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Possessive Theo Raeken, Virgin Stiles Stilinski, alternative universe, and theo is a fuckboy that also has a motorcycle, in which stiles is the president's son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 20:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17311376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiiis16/pseuds/whereshiphappens
Summary: Theo pulled out a leather jacket and put it on Stiles’ hands,“remember what I said last time about not getting caught?”. Stiles stared at the jacket. When he looked up, Theo had put on a jacket himself, zipping it up as he looked all around to see if anyone was on them, and then his eyes locked intensely on Stiles.With the excitement building in his gut all the way to his chest, Stiles’ mouth parted in an unbelieving smile,“run further than across the street.”The glint in Theo’s eyes was mischievous, as that smirk stretched onto his lips, and he offered a helmet to Stiles.-part II ofanother colour coded crimeand 100% inspired on Ariana Grande's music video for Into You.





	wild

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! who do we have to thank for yet another mess of feelings from yours truly? [darkstiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkstiles/pseuds/darkstiles) of course. because she did[ this](https://theoraeken.tumblr.com/post/180759062778/) and how could i help myself really ksldjljghfgl. 
> 
> it is heavily and i mean very heavily inspired in the music video for Into You by Ariana Grande. The pink motel aesthetics got me. i feel like i have to thank my friend Cass bc she keeps helping my dumb foreign ass when i forget how to english. so thanks babe.
> 
> so like. i hope you guys like this. i sure had a lot of fun writing it. let me know, my dudes <3  
> as usual im sorry for any mistakes.

* * *

 

 

For a moment, all he hears is his own breathing and his own frantic heartbeat. Stiles’ hands are numb and cold but he knows they’re shaking as they wrap tightly around a firm torso. The leather jacket he’s wearing isn’t his own, and it shows in the way the shoulders sag a little, meant for wider ones. When his ears stop buzzing with the rush of adrenaline electrifying his veins, Stiles hears his own laugh echo inside the helmet he’s wearing.

His heart hasn’t stopped beating erratically since he his eyes found Theo’s all across the big dining hall. He hasn’t stopped feeling on the edge of _something_ since he saw the other boy in uniform, part of the staff waiting on the particular formal lunch he got stuck in this time, looking at him with a glint in his eyes and a smirk that set his insides on fire.

Stiles still doesn’t feel his bare cold hands properly, but he presses his chest closer against Theo’s back and his fingers dig in like claws on the leather jacket the other boy is wearing. The roar of the motorcycle resonates inside of his chest and he feels like taking the helmet off, feeling the wind on his face, stand up, _scream_. He feels alive.

Brought back from the numbness when Theo’s scent filled his lungs as he walked past Stiles, shoulder tingling where he subtly touched him, mumbled a charged ‘ _sorry’_ , innocent enough to anyone listening, eyes telling a whole other story with a single look, and a piece of paper falling into Stiles’ lap. Lips burning as the memories of that mouth return in a wave.

The sun is setting and there’s nothing around them but the desert and a long road ahead. One of Theo’s hands leaves the handles and reaches back to Stiles’ leg and Stiles wants to stop right now, touch him properly again _right now_.

It’s the same urge that had Stiles standing up from his seat at the table after reading the ‘ _follow me’_ in his note, throwing caution to the wind and barely a look his father’s way, excusing himself to go to the bathroom. The same urge that had him taking a different turn on the way to the bathroom and his breathing get all worked up as Theo, a few feet ahead, turned to smile at him, mischievous, full of promise and Stiles never felt so lured in by anything. Stiles only noticed he was going down a service corridor when too many faces of the waiting staff furrowed his eyebrows at him, and he ignored every single one of them, to watch and follow as Theo approached an emergency exit door, yanking the black apron off and throwing it careless away.

Stiles had felt dizzy with the need to reach Theo, as he waited for just a second, before pushing the emergency doors open to reveal another grey brick corridor, deserted, at the end of which was the promise of getting _the fuck_ out of there. He almost started running when Theo got out of his field of vision for the second it took Stiles to go through the doors, after him.

There’s a service station ahead, and it’s like Theo can hear his thoughts as he starts slowing down, with every intention of stopping, the hand gone from Stiles’ thigh. Stiles’ heart is hammering inside his chest.

Just like it did when he crossed those emergency exit doors, and Theo was there, caught his hand to yank Stiles to himself, pushing him against the grey wall. He didn’t say a word, smiled at Stiles in an exhale and kissed his mouth. Hard, putting his whole body into it and making Stiles’ knees tremble just a little. _“I missed you, golden boy,”_ he’d whispered against Stiles’ lips before he pecked them one last time, grabbing a bag and Stiles’ hand before taking off towards the exit. Stiles couldn’t stop staring at him, feeling the blood in his veins rush and a warm feeling taking over his chest - he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Theo; almost convinced at some point, he had been a dream.

“ _Where are we going?”_ Stiles had asked, feeling the nervous energy bubbling up in a chuckle as he followed Theo anyway - whatever the answer. He pushed the backdoor open, stepping out into the street and Theo only stopped when they reached a black motorcycle, put his bag - a tail bag - up on the seat, unzipping it. Biting his lip, Theo pulled out a leather jacket and put it on Stiles’ hands, “ _remember what I said last time about not getting caught?”._ Stiles stared at the jacket. When he looked up, Theo had put on a jacket himself, zipping it up as he looked all around to see if anyone was on them, and then his eyes locked intensely on Stiles.

With the excitement building in his gut all the way to his chest, Stiles’ mouth parted in an unbelieving smile, “ _run further than across the street.”_ The glint in Theo’s eyes was mischievous, as that smirk stretched onto his lips, and he offered a helmet to Stiles.

It was like a dream - but then again, Stiles doesn’t think his brain could come up with the overwhelming amount of sensations he’s feeling on his own. With his back hitting a metal door, ripping a breathy moan from him, his eyes are hooded and his arms reach out to pull Theo to him, to kiss him in the hidden shadows of this service station.

“Can’t believe you found me again,” Stiles confesses, his back arching as Theo wraps an arm around his waist, holding him close. He means it - for the past month Stiles has done nothing but think about the other boy, and for the whole month he was convinced he wouldn’t see him again. Theo brings his other hand - the one grabbing his helmet - up to the wall by Stiles’ side, as if to steady them.

“Haven’t done anything, but look for a way to get to you,” Theo whispers, brushing his nose against Stiles’, before trailing back to kiss at Stiles’ jaw, Stiles’ hand coming up to intertwine his fingers on the short hairs at the back of Theo’s head. Stiles’ mouth falls open, and he’s sure that he looks dazed out of his mind; he feels it too, the information setting the blood in his veins on fire. He cries out softly when Theo’s teeth make contact with the skin on his neck, and he thinks about getting back home all marked - his hips give an involuntary thrust forward and Theo chuckles against his throat.

He pulls back, and Stiles whines, his hands sliding to Theo’s shoulders as he looks the other boy in the eyes. Theo’s pupils are blown, his mouth red from the kissing and Stiles bites his lip, eyebrows pinched.

“I’m gonna go inside,” Theo says eyebrows high, voice soft, “get food, drinks,” he raises his chin, looking at Stiles through hooded lids. Theo’s eyes roam through his whole face like all he’s hungry for really is Stiles, and the lowering light of the sun behind him turns everything gold and Stiles feels warm all over. “And then we’ll find a place to stay,” he says, pointedly, but it sounds like a question, like asking for permission.

“We’ll find a place to stay,” Stiles repeats, nodding. He wants that. He wants it, even if for just one night. Get away and do what he wants for a change, no one controlling him. Stay up all night and just look at Theo, run his fingers over his skin because he can, lock away every detail of Theo’s face in his brain. There’s a pang in his stomach when he thinks that tonight is probably all he’s gonna get - after this, his dad will most definitely come through with his promise to send Stiles to the other side of the country.

Stiles knows the urgency he feels is only serving to blow what he feels more out of proportion, giving it this intensity and this magnitude that shouldn’t be there, not for someone he’s met twice. But he can’t deny the electricity sparking up his veins, the warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach, climbing up to his chest - the incontrolable heat down in his gut making it hard to process anything correctly. Everything Theo represents turns him on so much.

Theo’s still looking at him in silence, and Stiles feels the light of the sun meeting his eyes. So he closes them, brings Theo closer and kisses him softly, before whispering “hurry back” against his mouth and Theo’s hand on his waist grips him tight before letting go, heading for the store.

 

 

Stiles is staring up at the bright neon pink sign of the motel, when Theo steps out of the reception with a set of keys in his hand. Immediately, Stiles straightens up from where he is slouching against Theo’s motorcycle, uncrossing his arms to instead put his hands in the pockets of the lent leather jacket. Watching him making his way over, with a sway to his step derived from his high level of confidence, Stiles bites his lip and feels a sudden outburst of nerves taking over him.

“Got a room,” Theo says when he reaches Stiles, smirks. Stiles looks him over silent, worrying at his lip. Under the pink light of the neon sign, Theo looks even more beautiful, edging on dangerous and Stiles swallows at how it makes his stomach turn, hot. He looks him over, really looks him over for the first time since he ran away with Theo, all hot adrenaline taking over his body - Stiles feels a little more grounded now, but that only makes space for a nervous feeling to set in.

Stiles isn’t getting cold feet - he really isn’t, he wants this, he wants Theo; but the more he looks at the other boy the more this feeling of insecurity and _fear_ grows inside his chest.

He’s so handsome; someone like Theo could probably get anyone he wanted based on his looks alone and there’s an insecure, paranoid part of Stiles that frowns at it, suspects his intentions like he was trained all his teenage years to do. _Don’t trust people blindly._ Why would he put himself to all this work to get to Stiles, if there wasn’t some sort of reward, some way to get something out of this for himself? It couldn’t be just about getting laid - Theo probably had a line of people at his doorstep, just waiting to be invited for it.

The silence is long, as Stiles loses himself in his head, but he sees Theo turning his head just slightly, watching Stiles, face softening. Stiles nerves must be written all over his face.

“We don’t need to go inside right now,” Theo tells him and Stiles looks up locking eyes with him. It’s just like when they met - Theo seems to see right through him and Stiles doesn’t know if it should reassure or scare him.

“I saw a vending machine in the corner,” Stiles says as way of agreeing, and Theo smiles at him, looks around and pockets the key in his hands, coming closer to Stiles to take his hand and intertwine their fingers. “Don’t tell me those white house bastards won’t let you have junk food, either,” Theo teases pulling him along, “you poor, poor kid” he adds dramatically. Stiles rolls his eyes with a smile stretching over his lips. The casualty in Theo’s tone of voice serves to steady his nervous beating heart and the wild feeling in his gut putting him on edge settles into a warm feeling in his stomach. It’s okay. He’s okay.

 

 

“Those are new,” Stiles comments, reaches for a different bag of sweets on Theo’s lap. Theo snatches them, holds the sweets away from Stiles and looks at him with an obviously exaggerated worried expression on his face. Stiles stops, frowns at him with his hand up midair. They’re sitting on the grass, back against the tall luminous sign of the motel, hidden from the parking lot and any prying eyes. Theo’s bag is zipped open by their feet, with everything Theo got from the service station right in front of them.

With his other hand coming to his chest, Theo blinks slowly, “Stiles, I’m actually worried about your well-being at this point - these,” he shakes the bag to catch his attention, and Stiles rolls his eyes when he catches up with the sarcastic mocking once again, “have been around so long, got so hyped they had their own commercial on TV. You had no TV privileges either? I’m calling child protective services.” Huffing, refusing to let out even a smile, Stiles stretches to steal the bag from Theo’s hand and hits him in the chest with it, for good measure, “Okay first of all, you little shit, I’m not a child-”

“Clearly,” Theo interrupts lowly, giving him a smirk as his eyes wander down Stiles’ chest, which flushes just about automatically.

“Second,” Stiles carries on, ignoring Theo’s remark despite his red cheeks as he starts opening the bag of sweets, “I probably have larger TVs than most walls of your house in my bathroom alone.” Theo lets out a sharp noise in a laugh, bends forward wheezing and Stiles has to fight to control the muscles in his face from breaking into a grin.

“And third,” Stiles takes a bite of the gummy candy, looking at Theo with defying raised eyebrows when the other boy straightens up and looks at him again with the ghost of the laugh in his lips, “what makes you think I waste my time on normal TV?” Theo leans towards him, tongue over his teeth and a cheeky smile on the corner of his mouth. Stiles bites his lip, watching him.

“Your highness is too good for that?” Theo whispers, mocking, inclines his head and brushes his nose against Stiles, before pecking his lips. Stiles actually feels his heart fluttering. This playfulness, this back and forward is something Stiles isn’t used to, has him hyped up.

“I’m not royalty,” Stiles answers back in a quiet voice, turning his nose up just so, almost petulant, making that smirk return to Theo’s lips. Theo takes the rest of the candy from Stiles’ fingers. He grabs Stiles’ chin, drags his bottom lip down a little and stares at him with something in his eyes; like he’s seeing something fascinating that Stiles doesn’t catch up to. “Yeah, you are,” Theo tells him, kisses him again and brings the candy up to Stiles’ dazed slightly open mouth. “And you’re supposed to eat it all at once, you heathen, do you bite into sushi as well?” Theo teases.

It takes a moment for Stiles to recover control of his limbs, close his mouth, and convince his heart to slow down, because the intensity with which Theo does everything, says this kind of things, _looks_ at Stiles is making him lightheaded. He’s definitely not used to this; he’s not used to someone like Theo. Stiles doesn’t think there’s many people as shamelessly unabashed about their own actions as Theo. He doesn’t think there’s many people who would help the son of the President of the United States of America run away, without a second look or a care in the world, unafraid of the consequences like Theo seems to be. It’s a kind of freedom that Stiles longs for - is probably the reason he’s so attracted to Theo and the danger that this kind of wild recklessness represents.

In the back of his mind, Stiles wonders if Theo, in just a few hours, will manage to ruin everyone else for him. He feels a little breathless.

“And here I thought the only reason you worked around food was to spy on kids of rich politicians and diplomats and the lot,” Stiles says, taking his mind from that thought process, guarding himself behind the joking tone of voice and hint of sarcasm. “Turns out you have an affinity for it.”

“For spying on kids of rich politicians and diplomats?” Theo asks back, teasing Stiles with a broad smile. Stiles can’t help but return the smile, although fighting to keep it close mouthed as his eyes look over Theo’s face. He takes a couple of the sweets, pushes them against Theo’s mouth until he opens to take it, saying “for food.” As if Theo didn’t get it.

Stiles stares at him for a moment, “so what’s the plan, get a job catering, kidnap someone important, get them to pull some strings to make it to Chef and open a fancy restaurant or something?”

Once again Theo laughs, and Stiles decides he likes that sound very much - he finds himself wishing not to forget it too fast.

“There’s no plan, Golden Boy, I just need the money to get the fuck out of here,” Theo tells him, inclining his head back until it falls casually against the sign they’re sitting up against.

“No plan?” Stiles repeats softly, the teasing tone of his voice deflating, feeling just a little jealous. “Just some money and a motorcycle,” Stiles concludes for him. Theo looks at Stiles, reaches over like he’s going to take another candy from the bag Stiles has, but his hand ends up focused on Stiles’ fingers instead, gaze following.

“Yeah,” Theo says, lightly, as if trying to contradict the heaviness in Stiles’ chest, “I’ll figure it out as I go.”

“What about your family?” Stiles asks then, compelled by a sudden genuine curiosity that usually blinds him to boundaries, off limit topics, and too personal matters. He turns his hand around and looks down at it as well, watching as Theo plays with his fingers absentmindedly.

Theo doesn’t sound pressed when he answers him, “I live with my uncle. He’s a free spirit too.”

They fall silent after that, looking down at their hands for a moment.

The silence only serves to make that first sensation of being in a dream grow. The clear night sky above them, the pink neon lights of the motel, the softer white one of the sign behind them, the sounds of the cars driving by and ignoring them, some distant noise of a TV, probably the one in the reception, the hum of the vending and ice machines around the corner. Everything is filling the bubble world Stiles feels like he’s in, removed from reality. He feels numb in the best way, the absence of the suffocating elements of the world he’s used to creating a sort of bliss that impossibilitates Stiles from feeling the guilt he should feel, for undoubtedly worrying his dad sick.

He doesn’t think twice about it, selfish as it is. All he can focus on is the gentleness of Theo’s fingers as they play with Stiles’ hand, the warmth of his body pressed alongside his, the radiating calm confidence that emanates from the other boy and has Stiles’ gut churning. He’s so into Theo, he feels like he can barely breathe and his chest fills up with warm things when he thinks of how Theo could be anywhere and he wants to be here, next to Stiles.

Because Theo makes no plans, just does as he pleases. Theo is the kind to _figure it out_ as he goes. And Stiles wants that. Wants to be like that. Even if its just once and tomorrow he’ll have consequences to face. Tomorrow is a long way away still, and tonight he knows what he wants.

“Theo?” Stiles calls softly, as he builds up the courage. The other boy acknowledges him with a hum, looks up at him. “I wanna go inside,” Stiles says and his grip on Theo’s hand closes meaningfully.

He decides that, tomorrow’s consequences are nothing compared to the wild reckless fulfilling freedom of tonight’s decisions.

 

 

Stiles wonders if his heart isn’t tired. It has been beating irregularly and leaping in his chest the whole day. It keeps beating off, with no signs of slowing down as Theo, sitting on the bed, back leaning against the headboard, pulls Stiles to him, until he’s sitting on his lap, legs on each side of his thighs - just like that first time.

He feels like it isn’t fair, though, to expect his heart to slow down when Theo is taking off his own shirt and Stiles has all that skin under his fingertips to touch. They kiss, and they kiss and they kiss until Stiles feels like his lips are going to fall off and his face is burning with the rough friction of Theo’s stubble. Theo’s hands are at the hem of Stiles’ dress shirt, untuck it, _grabs_ at him like the can’t help himself and the groan Stiles lets out has nothing to do with pain.

Theo’s hips move up, just a little, and Stiles feels him hard through Theo’s jeans, breath hitching in his throat and hands coming up to Theo’s neck to hold himself closer to him. His knees slide further apart, he arches his back a little, glues his body to Theo’s and moves slowly, with a whine breaking their kiss. Theo hisses, his hands come down to Stiles’ ass to hold him down, grinding his hips up and he holds his gaze. The curtains are drawn, but the lights are off and the only light in the room is the faded pink of the neon sign outside, intensifying the dream-like haze around them.

“You look like sin, you know that?” Theo mumbles, voice rough and eyes dark. Stiles falters a little, almost laughs biting his lip, pinched eyebrows. Theo makes a sound in the back of his throat at it, his hands squeezing Stiles’ ass and his back straightening when he lunges forward to bite his lip, making Stiles lose his rhythm. He bites Stiles’ lower lip, pulls on it just a little with that _growl_ from the back of his throat like a fucking animal. It’s only a dizzying second, and then he’s claiming Stiles’ mouth in a kiss instead, hungry and messy, like Stiles is pushing his buttons and he can’t help himself.

It’s overwhelming. And Stiles feels like he’ll _die_ if he doesn’t rub against Theo, if he doesn’t find that friction again and works it until his brain is mush - he still has the clarity to think that maybe he’s turned into a fucking animal as well.

He groans in frustration when his pants don’t let him move like he wants to, swings his leg to get off of Theo for a second and starts frantically working the button and zipper of his _stupid_ dress pants, Theo’s hands coming on top of his own to help when he sees Stiles shaking too much.

Instead, Stiles starts unbuttoning his shirt, gets it open by the time Theo starts pulling his pants down to take them off. After, he stands on his knees and Theo brings his legs under himself to turn towards Stiles, both on their knees, face to face. They slow down, stop. Theo reaches out, fingers over his ribs, one hand going around and down to rest on Stiles’ waist - that arches on instinct - the other up to Stiles’ collar bone, and then down until Theo’s thumb is brushing a nipple.

Theo seems lost, looking at Stiles like he’s never seen anything like him and Stiles feels once again a little lightheaded at the feeling of Theo’s eyes wandering all over his body. His mouth falls open and he’s breathing hard, unable to look away from the expression of wonder on Theo’s face that he doesn’t quite get. “ _Golden Boy”_ Theo whispers mostly to himself, but Stiles catches it and feels it warming up his chest, spreading wildly all over.

“I need you t-” Stiles voice catches and he swallows hard, reaches for Theo, wants these light touches to stop, needs _fire_ back, “I need you to kiss me,” he finishes, suddenly feeling like the distance between them is too much, and the time they’ve been without proper touching too long. The overwhelming need to get as close to Theo as possible right now making him lose control of his mouth a little. “You need to do _something._ ” He begs, speaks fast to urge him when Theo doesn’t immediately move, stares right into Stiles’ eyes instead. “Stop touching me like you’re afraid I’ll break, I’m tired of being treated like that.”

Suddenly, Theo’s hand comes around to the hairs at the back of Stiles’ head, grips it tight, bends his head back just a little and kisses Stiles’ mouth, swallowing the moan he lets out.

“You think I’m afraid to break you?” Theo says, keeps the tone mischievous, looking at him with a wicked little glint in his eyes. “Don’t you know that’s exactly what I want to do to you?” He pulls a little harder, just to expose Stiles’ neck further and lick a small strip down the column of his throat, his eyes flutter at the moan Stiles lets out, at Stiles’ cold hand suddenly on his chest to steady himself.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Stiles whines, closes his eyes as the impossibly hot fire he’s feeling dances up his veins.

“I want you to never want anyone else touching you, after me,” Theo continues, his eyes searching Stiles’ as he eases the grip, lets him lower his head a little to properly stare back at Theo, panting, squirming. Theo’s words serving only to further feed whatever hot mess is threatening to take his sanity at any point now. “I want to break you so bad that any other hands feel too cold, any other kiss is too sour on your mouth.” With his other hand, Theo reaches to touch Stiles’ lips. “I want you to want me, only me, always just me, and no one else.”

With a hand coming up to bat Theo’s hand away, Stiles breathes out, a small grin pulling the corner of his lip up, pupils blown, “God, you fucking psycho,” and immediately, Stiles pulls him in for a vicious clash of their lips, mouths kissing like its all they know how to do.

“What are you waiting for?” Stiles sighs against his mouth, as soon as he slows down to breathe.

Theo smiles against his mouth, nuzzles his nose against Stiles, “everyone’s afraid of breaking pretty things,” he whispers.

His hands are coming down Stiles’ torso, moving inside the unbuttoned dress shirt that Stiles still has hanging on his shoulders. Stiles feels his fingers reaching his abdomen, grazing the fine hair going down his bellybutton. He’s standing so close to Theo, looking him in the eyes, feeling his own knees give a little, when Theo’s hand slips inside his black boxer briefs and wrap around Stiles’ hard dick.

“ _Oh,_ my God,” Stiles groans, eyes fluttering shut. Theo’s mouth latches onto Stiles’ neck kissing and biting and licking. He’ll leave a mark - he’s _marking_ him. The idea doesn’t help Stiles keep track of his thought process at all, doesn’t help the electricity reaching his brain, making him whine with how much the wants this.

But then, Theo’s reaching down with his other hand to push Stiles’ underwear down and a sharp pang of alarm breaks the spell and Stiles opens his eyes, reaches to stop Theo’s hand, sobers up just a little. “Theo, I don’t…” Stiles trails off, doesn’t know how to explain what he wants. “I don’t want to take them off,” he says, even though he doesn’t know _why_. It feels like a barrier. Protection. It feels like a comfortable place to be that Stiles doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want Theo to stop either, though.

He cups the hand Theo’s got on his cock, “Like this, instead,” Stiles asks, feeling so exposed and vulnerable that his throat constricts and his voice comes out a little weird - shaky. He holds his breath for Theo’s reaction.

Theo takes the hand on Stiles’ boxer briefs off, brings it to the back to Stiles’ neck, cups it gently and brings Stiles’ head forward, lips resting against his forehead for a second. He knows, Stiles knows Theo is well aware of Stiles’ lack of experience. “It’s alright, babe. We do whatever you want,” he whispers, and kisses him.

Theo’s kisses make Stiles forget whatever surrounds him - make his mind go blank to everything that isn’t Theo and the moment; He kisses like he’s telling Stiles a secret and every ounce of Stiles’ attention focuses on it. Stiles feels overwhelmed with it. He doesn’t notice when Theo starts moving, but his hands are guiding him and Stiles is being laid back on the bed.

Stiles’ knees are pushed gently apart and Theo lays on top of him, thigh slothed between Stiles’ legs. Theo doesn’t stop moving his hand on Stiles. He’s close already. Has never had anyone touching him, doesn’t stand a chance at making this last. They keep kissing and Stiles’s hand traces down Theo’s free arm, looks for his hand to intertwine their fingers as he moves his hips and feels Theo rock against him as he moves his hand, stroking Stiles.

It doesn’t take too long before Stiles is incoherently moaning and whining against Theo’s panting mouth, all intentions to keep on kissing forgotten as the fire reaches their brains. His nails dig into the skin of Theo’s hand as he keeps a tight grip, like it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away. With his hips flying up the mattress, into Theo’s grip, against his crotch, Stiles comes with a choked out cry, breathless and blissed out.

Hand still gripping Theo’s hand as the other boy moves from above him to lie next to him on the bed, Stiles whines halfheartedly at the absence of his body’s warmth, coming down from his high with his eyes closed and his mouth open, panting, numb from all the kissing.

With a final deep breath, his heartbeat slows down a little bit, and Stiles notices the way Theo keeps holding his hand in the middle of both of them, a sudden passing harsh grip catching his attention, making him turn his head to his right to look at Theo laying by his side.

If his heart managed to calm down somehow, it wasn’t for long. His pulse skyrockets, right after his heart skips a beat at the image that greets him.

Theo’s head is turned to the side, to Stiles, looking at him. His eyebrows are pinched up in his forehead and he’s biting his bottom lip - when Stiles fixes his eyes on Theo’s, the other boy groans, a deep sound from the back of his throat. Theo’s got his other hand down his pants, belt and fly undone hastily pushed down to let his dick out. He’s got his hand wrapped around himself, and moves it fast, trying to finish himself off and looking at Stiles like he’s the sexiest, most pornographic thing he’s ever seen.

If Stiles could, he’d come again right now at the image alone.

“ _Jesus_ , Theo,” he breathes out shakily. And that’s all it takes for Theo to lose control of his breathing, of his movements, of the sounds he’s making - comes all over his own abdomen and Stiles is at a loss for _fucking_ words.

Stiles rolls onto his stomach towards him, feels his vision go black at the suddenness of the movement, but it’s okay. His eyes are closed, his left hand on Theo’s jaw and his mouth over his. He can’t help himself. Theo is the one who looks absolutely sinful like this.

When the kiss breaks, Theo licks his lips, “how am I supposed to give you back to them now?” he mumbles, voice just a little rough.

“You don’t have to give me back just now,” Stiles answers, but he’s thinking the same. He doesn’t want to leave, to break the bubble, to go back to the real world. His head rests on Theo’s shoulder. “And you don’t have to give me up, ever,” he whispers, lowly, to himself mostly, too afraid to say it too loud and sound ridiculous. He doesn’t know if Theo hears it.

 

 

The next morning, when Theo is helping Stiles off the motorcycle, he takes his own helmet off, looks up at the big garden gates some feet away, before looking back at Stiles with a smirk in place. Stiles is making to take off the leather jacket that isn’t his, and Theo’s gloved hands stop Stiles’.

“Keep it,” he says and Stiles stop unzipping it, frowning. When it’s open like this one of the shoulders almost falls off. Theo pulls him by the hand, quickly looks around with a devilish look in his eyes before kissing Stiles again, his tongue working in a way that steals Stiles’ breath once more. His head is still spinning when Theo continues, “I’ll be back for it.” he promises.

Stiles raises his eyebrows, lips stretch in a smile, “what if I’m not here anymore?” It’s a very real possibility. Theo raises an eyebrow at him, turns his nose up, looking at Stiles through hooded eyes, a borderline arrogant expression on his face complete with his smirk. “I’ve got some money, a motorcycle and no plan,” he jokes. But then his expression sobers a little, he kisses Stiles one last time, squeezing his hand. “I’ll find you whatever they take you, Golden Boy,” Theo smiles at Stiles, big and genuine before mounting his motorcycle and putting his helmet on. He looks at Stiles as he turns the engine on, and with a wink, slaps the visor down, to take off.

Stiles stays there, watches him drive off, warm hands making their way into the pockets of the jacket. There’s an unfinished bag of sweets there.

He feels high on all he’s feeling. In a daze that he can’t quite describe but has him feeling as light as the air. Stiles believes that promise. And so, going back and facing those consequences suddenly doesn’t feel as dooming as it did yesterday.

It’s casually climbing stone steps to the front door, with security all around him in a frenzy, eating gummy candy, in a strangers jacket, and with an angry purple and red bruise on the side of his neck that Stiles’ dad finds him. The security at the gate, although they let Stiles just make his way in without bothering him, most likely called the house as soon as they set eyes on him.

Distraught, clearly worried, a face that shows he hasn’t slept much, with a dozen assistants and security guards around him, his dad stands by the front door, and he looks odd, out of place and out of character. Against his better judgement, Stiles finds the amusement climbing up his spine, lips stretching into a mocking grin. All the formality he’s used to seems to have been thrown out the window and Stiles finds it fitting. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He hears Theo’s promise on a loop in his head, and he believes it, and Stiles doesn’t give _a single fuck_ about consequences anymore.

“ _Stiles!_ ” comes his dad’s voice, loud, angry but relieved, carrying so many conflicting emotions that it breaks, goes high pitched.

And Stiles, still high on Theo, possibly on a sugar rush, and almost maniacally, laughs.

  


**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr :) ](https://whereshiphappens.tumblr.com)


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